


Kodachrome (was: Because you move me)

by megzseattle



Series: The Serpent and The Seagull [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Developing Relationship, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-22 05:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19660894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megzseattle/pseuds/megzseattle
Summary: In the early days of their developing relationship, Azirphale picks up a new, secret hobby. Of course, nothing can stay a secret forever when you live together.





	1. Crowley Moves In

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr at <https://ineffably-good.tumblr.com>.
> 
> We have fan art! Thank you to the talented artists out there who have taken a minute to draw our little Frederick. I welcome any and all contributions!
> 
> 1) @rocketbeagle did a drawing of Frederick the snake! I love it. Go like their pic of : [Frederick curled around Crowley's neck](https://rocketbeagle.tumblr.com/post/186197588881/Frederick).
> 
> 2) Also from @rocketbeagle: [a full portrait of Frederick! ](https://rocketbeagle.tumblr.com/post/186339285825/have-another-frederick-uvu-from-ineffably-goods)
> 
> 3) From @akinmytua2, [this great pic of Frederick curled up in the sun on a bookshop chair.](https://akinmytua2.tumblr.com/post/187453068510/kodachrome-was-because-you-move-me-chapter-1)
> 
> 4) Also from @akinmytua2, this gorgeous view of :  
>  [ Frederick in the messenger bag from London Calling, right before he sneaks out to eat the bird](https://akinmytua2.tumblr.com/post/187743485645/london-calling-chapter-1-megzseattle-good)

Having at long last broken the ice between them, Aziraphale and Crowley were inclined to waste no time moving into a full-fledged relationship. One would expect to say that it was awkward, and to be sure there were some stumbles and fumbles as they went, but on the whole, it felt entirely natural – like breathing (if either of them really needed to breathe) or like sleeping (if more than one of them slept). What felt difficult to swallow, suddenly, were the centuries they’d wasted, both wondering how the other felt – alternately stuck, too afraid to move, or tormented.

In the week following their first kiss, Crowley slowly began bringing over his plants and depositing them around the shop and flat. Soon and without significant discussion, it became apparent that they _both_ were now living in the flat above the shop. 

“Moving in then?” Aziraphale asked one night from behind the book he was reading. He kept his tone light and neutral, not wanting to spook his demon.

“Rather already did,” Crowley replied thoughtfully, with somewhat uncharacteristic forthrightness. “Do you mind?”

“Mind? I’m delighted,” Aziraphale said with a smile. 

And that was that. Aziraphale made space for Crowley, and in return Crowley tried to be somewhat considerate as he shoehorned as many of his possessions as possible into an already crowded space. The most difficult thing was finding a place for both of their wardrobes in the flat up over the back of the shop. Their tastes were so wildly divergent that it seemed to make the most sense to separate their clothing entirely. Crowley magicked up a large, sleek, black-lacquered armoire for himself where he kept his flashy and monochromatic outfits and his infinite variety of boots. Aziraphale set about creating for himself something he'd always somewhat wanted - a rather fussy, old fashioned dressing room, filled with velvet furnishings and lush surroundings and a small variety of fussy, carefully curated pieces that were a minimum of fifty years out of date. 

That done, the angel and demon settled into a blissful, new domesticity that neither of them had experienced in the prior six millennia. 

And, inevitably, as they got used to spending more time together, Crowley and Frederick the snake eventually began to negotiate an uneasy peace – despite their differences, they both loved (and were exasperated in equal and frequent measure) by their angel, and they slowly came to note that they had many things in common. They both appreciated a good laze in the sun, for one, and they were both excellent at sulking. Friendships have been based on less.

It was the sunshine and napping trait that really brought them together. One day as the demon was resting in a comfy chair while the sun soaked in the front window, he sensed the snake looking at him meaningfully from his reed basket over by the cash register. 

"What?" Crowley snarked. "Stop staring at me."

The snake continued to stare meaningfully. He flicked his tongue out a few times for added emphasis. 

"You're not going to stop, are you?" Crowley sighed, sitting up. "Okay, fine, I know what you want." 

He stalked over and picked up the basket and its inhabitant, carrying it back over to set it at his feet. He then flopped back down in the seat and leaned back to resume his nap. A few minutes later he felt a rather insistent tap on his ankle. 

“What??” Crowley cried, sitting back up. Frederick looked at him innocently, and gave perhaps the tiniest little shiver. “Oh, don’t try your pathetic little manipulations on me, snake,” Crowley admonished. “I’m on to you and your wiles. You’re trying to wile the master of wiles, here, reptile.”

Frederick did his best to look sad as he settled back down into his basket. 

Crowley leaned back and tried to ignore this, only to find that he couldn’t. Aziraphale loved the little bastard of a snake, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be mean to something Aziraphale loved, at least not at the moment. 

He sat back up. 

“Fine!” he said, reaching down to lift the snake out of his basket. “You can sit with me. But don’t tell anyone, especially Aziraphale,” he warned. 

Frederick curled up happily in his lap and buried his nose in his coils. 

Crowley’s last thought as he drifted off to sleep was the he didn’t know snakes could actually purr. 

++

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called one day a week or two later, coming out from the back room. “Where are you? I wanted to you show this leaflet I just found for –” 

He stopped, astonished, at the sight before him. Four golden eyes in close proximity to each other gazed up at him lazily from an armchair carefully situated in a pool of sunlight by the front windows. 

“Oh!” he breathed. 

“Wha – “ Crowley said sleepily. “We’re having a kip, all right? Don’t stand there with your mouth open.”

Frederick flicked a tongue at him from his perch wound around Crowley's neck, and appeared to nod his agreement. 

“Oh my,” Aziraphale said, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to crack his face open. He held out his hands and backed away. “I’ll leave you to it then!”

“Quite right,” Crowley called after him. 

It was quite literally the cutest thing Aziraphale had ever seen. So cute, in fact, that his fondest desire became to photograph it and preserve it for posterity. He went out that afternoon and bought a trim little camera -- film of course; he wasn’t going to run wild with something as new-fangled as digital photography, for heaven's sake. It was another week before he found them napping again, but when he did, he carefully snapped a few pictures. He worried that the shutter would wake them, but the pair just slept through it, a combination of soft, whispery snake snores and louder ones from the demon covering up the shutter click nicely. 

He decided he might as well finish the roll, so he took a few more pictures of them the next day, playing with the light meter and the various settings and getting bold enough to attempt a few different angles. Soon he had a full roll filled, which he made up an excuse to drop off at the chemist’s for developing later that day. 

He hid the resulting prints, instinctively, feeling that Crowley wouldn’t like knowing he’d been photographed while he was sleeping. He tried to think of where they’d be safe from prying eyes –- the demon had a finger in everything it seemed -- and ultimately decided that the likeliest place was in the chest of drawers in his dressing room. Crowley, having inspected the room when it was finished, announced that he couldn't decide if it was the decor or the clothing it contained that gave him a blinding headache, and he tended to steer clear of the room all together from then on. 

So it was here that Aziraphale kept his packet of photographs, and soon several other packets as well. His favorites he even hung with sellotape on the back of the dressing room door, where only he would ever see them. If he occasionally pulled out a few and spent some time admiring them while he was supposed to be dressing, what of it?


	2. A Discovery at an Inopportune Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crowley discovers his angel is up to something...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _This chapter refers to an incident in another of my fics -- By CandleLight. In this fic (which I recommend you read to really understand), Crowley and Aziraphale have a little stand off about how Crowley doesn't want him to keep candles in the shop anymore after the shop burned down, and Aziraphale just can't bear to give them up. I haven't added this to the series because a few pieces don't fit (for example, no snake Frederick!) but it's a peripheral, related piece set somewhere between their first kiss and chapter two of this work._  
> .  
> .

  
  
“Angel, you need to get ready!” Crowley announced one afternoon as Aziraphale was busy at work on the ledgers. “We’re due at the opera in about an hour and you need to change.” He waved a hand. “You’re all inky. Cute, but inky.” 

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose and looked down, where he was surprised to find Crowley was right; he was definitely not at his best. Crowley had already freshened up and was in a rather dapper-looking charcoal gray suit. 

“All right my dear,” the angel called, heading up. “I’ll just be a moment! Two shakes of a lamb’s tail!” 

“Yes, yes, just hurry,” Crowley said, picking up a mister and setting out to tend to the plants for a few minutes while he waited. 

Twenty minutes later, no Aziraphale in sight, he went up to see what had happened and if he could motivate him to move a little faster. 

++

Aziraphale meant to hurry, but when he walked into the dressing room, his eye was struck first by the pics on the back of the door, and then the recent packet of photographs he’d just received back from the chemist. He’d forgotten all about them and hadn’t even had a chance to look at them yet! He removed his soiled topcoat and loosened his tie, then sat down on the red velvet chaise he’d specially commissioned for this room and started looking through the packet, laying out the ones he really liked on the seat next to him. 

As he cooed delightedly over one snap after another and began deciding which one or two he would add to the back of the door, he completely lost track of time. 

++

“Aziraphale,” Crowley called, coming upstairs. “Where are you? We need to get going.”

He checked the bedroom (no angel), then assumed Aziraphale had lost track of time reading in the tub (he hadn’t), and finally, losing patience, decided to check the dressing room. 

The dressing room was not to his taste; it was fussy and overly decorated and full of velvet and fringe and gold brocade and all kinds of things that Crowley, with his eye for minimalism, truly didn’t enjoy. He tended to stay away from it and let Aziraphale view it as his private retreat. 

“Are you in here?” Crowley called, opening the door suddenly. He immediately noted Aziraphale sitting on the chaise, absorbed in something in his lap. “You’re not even changed! What on earth are you –”

He stopped suddenly, both perplexed and amused by the sight in front of him. Aziraphale, clearly startled and looking somewhat alarmed, began struggling to gather up a large amount of what looked like photographs, frantically trying to shove them into a large envelope. In his hurry, several of the snaps escaped his reach and went fluttering to the ground, where they landed face down on the deep red carpeting.

Crowley, sensing some fun to be had, advanced slowly. “What’ve you got there, love?” he teased. “Must be pretty fascinating for you to lose all track of time this way.”

“Oh, no, no,” Aziraphale said, flustered. “It’s nothing, just some post I’d forgotten about. I was just tidying up and getting ready to grab a new jacket,” he concluded lamely. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Crowley said, teasing. “Is someone sending you randy pictures? C’mon, let’s have a look…”

Crowley followed Aziraphale’s gaze as the angel frantically noticed the two pics that had landed on the floor. Aziraphale noticed him noticing, and their eyes met for a moment of mutual tension, before they both, abandoning all pretense of dignity, dove for them at once in a tangle of limbs. 

Crowley, being rather well practiced in the fine art of flinging himself into places in an alarmingly rapid manner and with little regard for his personal safety, obviously got there first. 

Aziraphale made distressed noises, which Crowley ignored all together as he sat up grinning – meeting Aziraphale’s eyes for only a second, and then looked down at the snap in his hand.

He frowned for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, then froze. 

“This,” he said slowly, in a voice Aziraphale could not quite decipher, “is a picture of me.”

“And Frederick,” Crowley said weakly. 

Crowley examined it again, confused. “Taken by you?”

Aziraphale hemmed and hawed a little. “Well, yes, I suppose that’s correct.”

“You have a camera??”

“Just got one, actually,” Aziraphale said a little more brightly. “It’s a lovely art form! So expressive! You can do so much with the settings and different light levels!”

Crowley stood up and ran a hand through his hair, trying to understand what was happening, and in doing so, took his first good look around.

“Oh, good lord,” Aziraphale groaned as he watched Crowley take in the little gallery on the back of the door. 

_Each of the photographs hanging there were of him_ , Crowley thought.

_Sleeping._

_With a snake._

Crowley frowned and peered over the top of his sunglasses at his befuddled lover. “You make a habit of photographing me when I’m asleep?”

“It - I just... you looked so adorable!” Aziraphale said, aware this was _very_ much the wrong thing to say to a demon.

Crowley visibly shuddered a little. “I’m not adorable!” he said, sounding like he couldn’t decide whether to be angry or hurt. “I’m sexy and dangerous and entirely unpredictable!”

Aziraphale nodded firmly. All of that was certainly indisputable.

“Bit creepy, though,” Crowley said, remaining surprisingly calm. “Sneaking around, taking pics of me whenever I’m napping.” 

Aziraphale looked surprised. “I don’t think it’s creepy! I just - you and Freddy, you hated him so much at first! I didn’t think you’d ever be friends! So the first time I came across you two curled up together, it surprised me so much that I just wanted to something to remember it by.”

“So you ran out and bought a camera, right then.” Crowley folded his arms over his chest and fixed him with a look. He wasn’t truly angry, but he couldn’t resist giving his angel a bit of a hard time. 

“Pretty much, yes.”

“And then you took three or four rolls of film of us sleeping.”

“I suppose I got a bit carried away.” Aziraphale said, chastened. 

“And you hid them because?”

“Well... because!” Aziraphale exclaimed sadly, gesturing vaguely. “Because of this! I knew you wouldn’t like it. And I couldn’t stand it if you ripped them up, or turned them to sludge like you did with the candles, or whatever you’re going to do...” 

Oh.

Crowley felt a little bad faced with that comment. A couple of months back, he’d turned all of Aziraphale’s expensive Parisian candles into a melted pile of sludge in a fit of outrage when the angel agreed to get rid of them and then failed to do so. In his defense, he’d asked due to the overwhelming trauma of watching a stray candle burn down his friend’s shop. But he _had_ overreacted a little bit, and he didn’t want Aziraphale to think he was going to retaliate nastily every time something went awry. 

Seeing Aziraphale looking down, shoulders drooping, Crowley was struck with a sudden sense of great affection for his sweet, secretive little bastard of an angel.

“Come here, angel,” he said, his voice both gruff and gentle. Aziraphale looked up and did so immediately. He stepped close to Crowley and then stopped, almost bashful.

Crowley squared himself off in front of Aziraphale and placed a finger under his chin, raising the angel’s eyes to his.

“You are an idiot,” Crowley said lovingly, leaning in to lay a kiss on his forehead. “Completely and utterly.” He kissed him again, on the lips this time. “Good thing you’re my idiot.”

Aziraphale hummed in a bit of happy confusion and leaned into the kisses. “I’m glad,” he said, a little flustered. “To be your ... your idiot, I mean, I guess.”

Crowley smiled. To be honest, there was almost nothing Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to get away with, with him. He knew Aziraphale hadn’t meant any harm, and he generally loved Aziraphale’s wild enthusiasms. It was part of what made Aziraphale Aziraphale. 

“I’m not going to rip up your pictures, love,” Crowley said more gently. “Your punishment for being a sneaky little bastard is that I get to pick out what you wear tonight,” Crowley made a mock stern face. “Nothing Edwardian. No tartan. That’ll teach you.”

Aziraphale smiled and made a welcoming gesture towards the clothes. “Be my guest!” 

Crowley took his time looking around and ended up selecting a lovely and understated cream-colored suit and shirt, which he paired with a pale blue tie the exact color of the angel’s eyes. He gave Aziraphale one last kiss and a wink. 

“Get dressed,” he said. “We’re leaving in five. “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! One more chapter that is 90% complete but that final paragraph that's missing is taking me a little bit. If any of you are artists I am DYING to see a pic of the moment when they both grapple for the photo that's laying on the floor, towards the end of this. Or any Crowley-Frederick artwork. Or anything. On tumblr? Tag me on your art for this story at thedoctorwillsaveus.tumblr.com. I will pay you in new chapters.
> 
> 7/11/19 - Are you a Frederick fan? Please go see - the lovely @rocketbeagle did a drawing of Frederick the snake! I love it. Go like their post on tumblr: https://rocketbeagle.tumblr.com/post/186197588881/frederick


	3. A Night At The Opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Crowley plants a little temptation of his own._

.  
.  
They managed to make it to the opera on time through a mixture of crazy driving and, of course, a convenient miracle to find them a parking space directly in front of the venue. Neither the valets nor the police noticed the shiny Bentley sitting in the tow-away zone, not that they would have succeeded in ticketing it if they had. After so much time in the company of a demon, the Bentley had developed a few defenses of its own. 

The angel and the demon took their seats in a lush, private box obscenely close to the stage and settled in for the performance. Aziraphale gave the demon one last delighted glance as the lights went down, his eyes twinkling in anticipation, and then pulled completely unnecessary mother-of-pearl opera glasses out of his pocket, locked them with a snap of the wrist that would have made Louis XIV envious, and peered through them at the performers, despite the fact that the stage was at most thirty feet away. 

Crowley loved to watch Aziraphale take in a performance. He was nothing if not rapt, completely lost in the music and the story unfolding before him, and each moment of the story played out on his face. He gasped with delight at the lovely parts, sobbed through the tragic moments, and stiffened with outrage when someone was injured. Crowley was both moved by and jealous of the angel’s ability to subsume himself in a work, whether that was a book, a film, or an opera. It was as if the membrane between the angel and the beauty of the world was so thin that nearly anything could seep through. 

It was a concept the demon found somewhat horrifying, as he preferred the outside world to stay separate from his interior world and preferred to experience things from a rather jaded and cynical viewpoint. He did, however, love the spectacle of the opera, and he contentedly spent his time shifting his attention between the stage and his partner, unsure which of them he was enjoying more. 

++ 

During intermission, Crowley leaned over to drape an arm around Aziraphale and made his voice low and intense as he spoke close to his ear. 

“You know,” Crowley drawled. “If you want to take pictures of me, all you have to do is ask.”

Aziraphale, not sure he was taking the intended meaning, turned to look at Crowley and, seeing the devilish glint in his eyes, blushed intensely.

“My dear, I assure you, my interests in this matter were not at all salacious,” he murmured.

Crowley leaned closer, running a finger over the back of his angel’s neck. Aziraphale shivered. “But they could be salacious,” he said, “your intentions, that is. Why not? Might be fun to do a little ...” he paused and made his voice deeper and more thrilling, “.... boudoir photography.”

Aziraphale felt a little frisson of heat run through him. “My dear,” he said, making sure to sound both shocked and prim. “You are _scandalous_ , and we are at the _opera_! This is neither the time nor the place for your… your…” 

“All right, all right,” Crowley said, holding up his hands in a conciliatory manner. “I’ll behave. Don’t get all flustered.” 

“I’m not flustered,” Aziraphale said reproachfully, as he nervously tugged on his jacket and smoothed his tie, before sitting back and examining the program for the evening. 

Crowley leaned back in his upholstered seat and swirled the glass of champagne he was holding, quite pleased with this little seed of temptation he’d planted. Tempting Aziraphale was really the most delightful process - he’d plant an outrageous suggestion, enjoy the initial blushing/stammering/outright denial process that met him at the beginning, and then watch the idea percolate in the angel’s brain over the next few days. He’d catch the occasional speculative stare, the random blushes, and finally a small glimpse of a delighted grin as the angel managed to wrap his brain around whatever had been suggested.

 _The fun with Aziraphale_ , Crowley thought, _was that Aziraphale always came around in the end, especially if the idea was a fun one._

Crowley liked to think that _all_ his ideas were fun ones, in the end. It was just a process of being patient and waiting for his slightly old-fashioned love to come around. 

Just to be ready, he miracled a nice selection of feather boas and other outrageous props to a nice drawer in his wardrobe, back home.

It always paid to be prepared.

.  
.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little taste of Crowley being a little devilish. :)  
> .  
> And that brings me to the end of this installment of the series -- but rest assured, there is much more for these two and their snake friend. I've got the beginnings of installment three percolating and will hope to start writing in later this week!  
> .  
> 7/11/19 - Are you a Frederick fan? Please go see - the lovely @rocketbeagle did a drawing of Frederick the snake! I love it. Go like their post on tumblr: https://rocketbeagle.tumblr.com/post/186197588881/frederick


End file.
